


Secrets of the Tomb

by Leraiv_Snape



Series: Family Ties [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Dad Vader, Gen, Grieving Darth Vader, Obi-Wan & Vader Reconciliation, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan doesn't get the Force, Parent Darth Vader, warning: suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leraiv_Snape/pseuds/Leraiv_Snape
Summary: Vader visits Padme Amidala where she lies in state in preparation for her funeral.  As he says goodbye, the Force grants him a vision of her last moments and the birth of his children.  Now he has to find them.  And hide them....but that means finding the last man who spoke to his wife: Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Family Ties [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040985
Comments: 34
Kudos: 109





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: brief thoughts on suicide. Please read with care. 
> 
> This story was supposed to be a one shot when it started rocketing around in my brain. Instead, weeks and thousands of words later, it is four chapters long! Please enjoy.

Secrets of the Tomb: Part I

Moonlight shafted through the high window, Tasia’s icy light illuminating her beautiful face in planes of blinding blue and shade as she lay in state for tomorrow’s procession, a frozen slice of lifeless perfection for her adoring people to mourn their queen and senator.

For long moments, Vader stood, one black shadow swathed by many, staring through the red lenses that painted his beloved’s cold features in blood. Condemning him. 

His stillness was such that the hiss of his respirator was the only indication that the suit contained a living being. _This was a mistake,_ he snarled at the weakling weeping within. _I do not belong here, she is_ nothing _to me…_

 _LIAR,_ the voice of the silenced Skywalker screamed in defiance. _She is_ everything _to you. To me. She is the reason we_ are…

Vader swallowed, unable to combat the remnants of the man he had been, the man she had loved, the man that had driven him here. He would not be permitted in the funeral procession tomorrow. His master had forbidden it. Had reminded him that Anakin Skywalker had died on Mustafar and given birth to a magnificent Sith Lord that knew no weakness, but drew every breath in rage and hatred and power.

But that Sith Lord was not here. The protective fury that had submerged him on Mustafar, infusing his burning body with the strength of madness, the _need_ to survive…had disappeared. Darth Vader had abandoned him, and Anakin Skywalker stood in a body not his own, ruined far beyond repair, grieving his wife, his daughter, the life he had still dreamed of just a week ago. The Dark swirled around him, seeking the purchase on his soul he had so readily handed it in the service of saving her life, but grief and remorse had swallowed him whole, his regret pure and overwhelming. There was no space for Dark or Light, only sorrow.

He realized he had moved when he stood at her side, her face stilled in the same angelic gentleness she’d always had when sleeping. The longing to stroke her face, to wake her, was only interrupted as he reached with his flesh hand—

_—but he has no flesh hands, no organic limbs, they are gone, consumed by flame and fury and ambition—_

—he snatched back the leather digit that crept forward to brush her cheek, durasteel joints curling into helpless fists. His chest tightened, and despite the forced inhalations of his life support, he could not breathe properly. 

_I am sorry, my dearest one._ His tear ducts had been damaged by the fire, and he could not weep, but his mouth contorted behind his mask, and his throat closed in anguish. _You were always too good for me. I never deserved you._

Memory stabbed him, bright and mocking and infuriating. 

_She strides at his side, her gown floating about her as if she truly is ethereal. Her shoulders bare, her back exposed to the late afternoon sunlight, Anakin wonders how he can possibly keep himself from reaching out to her. His fingertips are already tingling in anticipation, his heartbeat so fierce under his suddenly-stifling robes it is a wonder she can’t hear it—_

_—she laughs, and it lightens his darkened soul. “I’m glad you think it was funny,” he says drily, pretending irritation, and she snorts again. “Oh, Ani, if Ahsoka hadn’t intervened when she did—”_

_—they stand hand-in-hand on the shore of the lake. “I don’t want to leave,” she whispers, gazing across the unruffled water._

_“We will be back, my love,” he assures her, kissing the top of her head. “The war will end, and we will speak to the Council…and come back here to build a house we can fill with children.” She smiles, but it does not quite chase away the sorrow—_

—as if, even then, even as a non-sensitive un-plagued by visions of a dark future, she knew. 

This was the first time they had returned to Naboo since that life-altering ten-day. And instead of holding his joyful wife and their brand-new daughter in his arms, he was reduced to looming over this lifeless imitation wrapped in a shroud, left behind in a universe made poorer by her loss. 

_“I don’t know you anymore. Anakin, you’re breaking my heart!”_

The air around him was cold. The temperature plummeted as doors creaked on their hinges. The respirator forced him to take a deep breath, pushing air into clenched lungs as he fought himself to master the ever-present, blinding urge to destroy. This was her planet, her resting place. Sacred ground. He had never had much faith in anything other than her or the Force, and the Force had proven a brutal, unreliable god. He had torched that temple himself. This was her final sanctuary. He would not ruin it, too. 

He uncurled a fist, and slowly, hesitantly, lay it against her face. In apology, in entreaty, in the need to obey his master and force himself to accept that she was gone, that her love, her boundless forgiveness, had vanished with her at his hand. He bowed his head over her for a moment, the tears he could not shed wringing his damaged heart nevertheless.

He made himself withdraw, hesitated, glanced at the swollen belly still holding their now-dead daughter. The daughter she had been so convinced would be a son. The daughter he owed an apology no less than her mother. He placed his monstrous hand over the curve of Padmé’s womb, large enough to nearly cover it entirely. 

_My child...I wish…I wish I could…I so looked forward to meeting you. To watching you discover the Force at your fingertips, to witnessing you marvel at the stars. I have failed you in every way, but you_ were _loved. We wanted you so very much. There is a galaxy here for you, waiting for you to emerge and claim your place as princess, to be beloved by all, just like your mother._

But Padmé had not wanted the power he offered her, and he had been too weak to deliver it, to show her how right the galaxy was with her at the helm, how they could provide for a daughter who would follow in her footsteps. Now he felt nothing under his glove, as of course he would not. The strength he had sensed growing in his wife had passed into the Force with her. As he readied himself to remove his hand, to consign the last vestiges of the unworthy Anakin Skywalker to death, to gather himself as Vader, the Force shifted around him.

And upended his world. Again.

Pain erupted through him, rending him, nearly dropping him to his knees. Vader had been born in a volcanic flow. Skywalker had been no stranger to the agonies of war wounds. But this pain was different. Enduring and old, searing and cleansing. It came from within, not inflicted from without. It had a purpose as old as life itself. Gasping through his respirator, he heard the echo of an infant’s cry. 

_“Luke,”_ Padmé’s labored voice sounded in his ears.

 _A son,_ Vader realized, _a son, she was right, it was a son, and he is_ alive…The agony sharpened again, slicing through him, how could she do this, why was he not with her—?

 _“Leia,”_ a second name, a second wail. Obi-Wan’s grief-and-joy stricken face hovered at the corners of his vision, but the anger his Jedi master’s visage should prompt was eclipsed by the staggering reality Vader grasped. _A daughter, too. There are two. We were both right. I have – we have – twins._ Something very like joy surged in him, and for an instant, he forgot his confinement in his suit, his promise to his new master, the betrayal of his brother, the death of his wife. For a single, shining moment, the galaxy had finally delivered and all was as he had always wished it to be.

 _“Obi-Wan...there’s good in him. I know...I know there’s...still…”_

This time, he _felt_ her flicker and go out, felt her pass into the Force, felt her leave him, alone and raw. _Padmé!_

The walls of the sanctuary cracked under his sudden fury as the vision faded, snatched by reality. He had thought to lay this pathetic need for her to rest, to end the puling, weakling mess that was Skywalker tugging on his psyche. Instead, he was reduced to a single father, daydreaming at a dead woman’s side—

 _A single father._

_“Luke. Leia.”_

Vader stopped as if he’d thrown a switch. The delicate glass windows, remnants of an artist celebrated hundreds of years ago, had shattered under his instinctive assault and now hung in the air, suspended around his untouched wife like shards of diamond rain, glittering under Tasia’s eye. He couldn’t have cared less. He released them in the Force and let them shatter on the marble floor. 

_“It seems in your anger, you killed her.”_

_“She was alive! I felt it!”_

She _had_ been alive. His children, _his twins,_ were alive.

Vader considered the woman who lay in state before him. He could not have her back. Would never hear her voice laughingly scold him or gently tease him or righteously correct his failure to be politically correct. But he could have their children. He could ensure they were not raised as orphans, that they knew they were loved. And wanted.

 _“You are my greatest blessing.”_ His mother’s words, the ones that soothed every hurt, every fight, every hard knock from their master—

He jerked himself from that memory. Those were Skywalker’s weaknesses, not Vader’s. 

_And her?_ Skywalker sneered at his delusion. _I pledged myself to become_ YOU _for her. For our children. The galaxy was to be their gift, their blessing, that nothing might touch them, that they would never know the shame of a master’s lash or scornful tongue._

Vader could not deny that. Could not smother the guttering Light that had found purchase in his Darkness. Could not set aside the sudden, brimming _need_ to find their children, to raise them himself.

Deliberately, he lay both gloved hands over the abdomen deliberately distended to show the crowd and the holocams tomorrow a woman who had perished with her unborn child. The _Who?_ and _Why?_ behind the illusion both presented themselves for consideration, but he shook them off. They were not the questions now.

 _My children,_ he commanded and begged the Force. _Show me my children. Padmé…I will not fail in this._ His mostly-useless eyes closed behind the mask, he did not see the brilliance of a white light tinged with green erupt around him, the faint arc of a condor’s wings spreading in the sanctuary like an angel bringing blessing. _They are the sole good left of her, of me._ The Force surged around him, obeying the commands of its chosen vessel, and the fragments that had previously leaked through time solidified into a clear picture.

_Padmé lies on the birthing bed, attended to by a droid and Obi-Wan. Vader/Anakin’s heart clenches. She deserves much better than the sterile pod, the cold metal fingers of a droid and his master’s face twisted by sorrow, his movement slow in its awkwardness. Their training bond, blackened and nearly-severed by the duel on Mustafar, lights up with Vader/Anakin’s sudden touch, hesitantly re-braiding itself and he can hear the other man’s thoughts from a week prior as clearly as if he had been there himself._

Not me, _he can hear the grief-laden mantra repeating in Obi-Wan’s head._ Not me. It should be Anakin. It was _supposed_ to be Anakin. I wish I could have saved him, had given him this chance. He would have loved… _Self-loathing rises, raw, bitter, choking. Vader/Anakin turns from him, from the violent stirring of emotion, from the combined_ lovehatepainbetrayalshameforgiveness _that his best friend’s presence evokes._

 _Padmé gasps, cries out, and he watches, helpless to comfort her, as the droid holds his son, clips the umbilical cord. His wife breathes his name. “Luke.”_ Luke, _Vader/Anakin’s gaze fixes greedily on the squalling baby, on the blazing Force presence his son brings to the world. He touches those threads, shining in their newness, cementing them in his own psyche. Another gasp, a second cry, and the medical droid is holding aloft their daughter, Obi-Wan desperately trying to simultaneously shush Luke while showing the newborn to his mother._

_“Leia,” she murmurs, and Vader/Anakin stares._ Leia. Le-yah. The Eldest Sister, the Krayt Dragon. _Padmé remembers. Has honored his wish for their daughter’s name even after he’d struck at her, strangled her in his mindless rage…_

 _A profound shame inundates him, humbles him. After all he has put her through, put them through, she has named their daughter for the first story he can remember, his own mother’s favourite, nibbling at the edges of his earliest memories with the howling sand._

_The machines at her bedside begin to beep as Obi-Wan attempts to place Luke in her arms. Padmé appears nearly senseless, her skin grey as color leeches from her cheeks. “What’s happening?” Obi-Wan asks, and Vader/Anakin can hear the panic in his voice._

_“She has lost the will to live,” the medical droid says in its passionless monotone. “There is nothing to be done.”_

Lost the _will_? With two newborns? The woman who had stood so firmly to combat the Trade Federation and then the Separatists in fierce defense of her world, of the Republic she cherished? The woman who had found the strength when exhausted and in pain to address the Senate to talk them out of making yet another mistake? His wife, the single most determined individual he had ever met, lose the _will_ to live? _Fury surges, demanding payment. Anakin/Vader reaches out to dismember the droid—_

—on Polis Massa, the medical droid that had attended the birth of twins a week prior suddenly froze, held by an invisible hand. Her metal vertebrae snapped, one by one, the automated light of her eyes dimming—

 _—and feels the touch of the Dark. Not his own. Another’s. Vast, unending cold. Dense and draining, a black hole in the Force. It wraps around Padmé’s life-presence and_ pulls. 

_The presence is one he recognizes. It is the same presence that has demanded his allegiance on his knees in the Chancellor’s office, identical to that which swamped him when he rose from the fires of his rebirth, encased in armor_. 

Vader jerked his hands from his wife’s body, taking a physical step back as the full horror of the truth resonated in the Force around him, jagged and sharp and unforgiving. He did not see the bright wings hovering in his Force awareness become dark, feathery tips sliding into leathery edges. It _was_ his fault. Not his hand, but his doing nevertheless. The Emperor had tread the link of their newly cemented master-apprentice bond to find the strength of the love Anakin bore his wife, the bond he had formed even with a non-sensitive…and had siphoned her strength away, draining her to provide life support for the cyborg Sith of Sidious’ own making.

Vader lived only because of Padmé’s unwilling sacrifice. The woman he would have immolated _worlds_ to save had been ripped from the galaxy to repair his broken body like a droid melted down for scrap parts.

His hands were at the powerpack mounted on his chest. All he had to do was remove it. His new limbs certainly had the strength for it. His death would be painful, hours of agony as he shut down—

_—which was no more than he deserved—_

—but quick enough that by the time the child-Queen and her attendants arrived in the morning, there would be two bodies in the sanctuary instead of just one. He could die with her, as he should have, as he should have died in her stead, leaving his children with their loving mother—

 _“Luke. Leia.”_ His fingers, already grasping the metal edges of the external life support, ready to tear it from his body, stopped. 

His own death would not bring her back. It would only leave his children, prodigious Force sensitives in their own right, completely vulnerable to his master. The Emperor would destroy them. He did not need a cursed Force vision to know how his children would be treated at his master’s hands. 

He forced his durasteel digits to open, slowly dropped his hands to his side. It burned to know he could not join her, that he was yet unworthy to pass through the veil and into the living Force. But how could he face her if he gave up now? Padmé might have forgiven him the pain he caused her, but she would never be able to stand the sight of him if he abandoned their children.

 _Padmé…I will not fail in this._ He had already promised. 

Which meant looking for the last person he thought he had ever wanted to lay eyes on again, the first person to hold his children. The last to speak to Padmé. 

_“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”_

The familiar rage tried to latch onto the image that had fuelled him through the first hasty steps of his recovery, but Vader handed it a new, stronger target: the feeling of Sidious wrenching his wife’s life away. The Dark roared in him, acknowledging his fury, drawing power from a now-bottomless well of determined revenge. 

The atrophied training bond with Obi-Wan would take little time to repair. His children’s Force signatures were far enough off to be muted and untrackable. It was entirely likely that his old master was shielding them. 

They were not on Naboo, then. Vader was grimly unsurprised. While he and Padmé had been waiting for victory to announce their marriage to her family, he was certain that both her mother and sister had deduced the truth. But leaving the children with them would be begging for questions. And even without knowing that he was the sire, Senator Amidala’s children would be attractive targets for political manipulation or, worse, assassination.

His gaze flitted once again to the false swell of her belly, and he knew a moment’s grudging gratitude for the deception. No one aside from Obi-Wan and himself knew her children had survived. No one knew that there were two of them. That gave him time. Possibly years with them once he’d found them. 

He reached out one more time to graze her cold cheek with the tips of his fingers before turning on his heel with a decisive _snap_ to his cloak that members of his 501st would have recognized anywhere. 

He had a mission to complete. It might take a lifetime, but he would not fail her in this as he had in everything else.

As he stalked from her resting place, green-white light and red-black shadow mingled in his wake, clinging to his cloak.

**********

A feeling of unlikely calm had settled in Obi-Wan’s bones over the past week. His lack of distress was, in itself, almost distressing. There was no logical reason for the Force to have smothered him with a blanket of serenity. All was not well in the galaxy as the new-minted Emperor took steps to rapidly consolidate his power.

The last twenty-one standard days had been the hardest in a life already defined by destruction and loss. Obi-Wan would gladly face Maul, Opress and Ventress all at once and let them take him apart piece by piece in trade for the gaping wounds in the Force where his fellow Jedi had been ripped out of it, in exchange for never hearing Anakin scream, _“I hate you!”_ , for never having watched his brother burn, for leaving him to die on an unforgiving lava field. For watching helplessly as that friend’s wife died. Everything had never been so _wrong_. But nevertheless…

...the Force was gently insistent in soothing him, smoothing his feelings of rage and guilt and sorrow. _Something_ had changed. Something vastly important. The galaxy had reached its darkest hour and, absurdly, the ripples spreading in the Force were ones of hope. 

The comm unit he had carefully installed in the ancient dwelling he’d found and begun to clean out chimed. He stared at it warily. There were three people who had this frequency. He certainly hadn’t expected to hear from any of them yet.

“Ben,” he answered neutrally after four more irritating beeps.

 _“Answered, you nearly did not,”_ Yoda’s aged voice crackled grumpily down the line. _“Felt it, have you, Obi-Wan?”_

Relief blossomed in the Jedi. If Yoda had felt it too, it wasn’t just his imagination or his sins talking. “I have, Master.”

_“Skywalker, it must be. Be on your guard, but mindful of the Force. Heed what it tells you, you must. I sense that all is not what it appears to be.”_

“Anakin? He’s gone, Master. He—” Obi-Wan paused, forced himself to take a deep breath, to swallow the choking bile rising in his throat, “I...killed him.”

_“Mmmm. Struck a killing blow, you did not. Lives, he does. Saved his body to damn his soul, the Emperor did. And the price...Skywalker is perhaps unwilling to pay.”_

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened. Anakin was dead…he perished in the fires of Mustafar. Their bond snapped, gone—

—on instinct, he reached for it, the strangled strands that ended in blankness—

—to find Darkness staring back. 

But it was a familiar flavor of the Dark. Imbedded in and around a guttering Light – still present! – he knew better than his own name. A Darkness he had first touched on Mortis, one that had haunted his Padawan ever since.

 _Anakin?_ he whispered along their bond.

 _Kenobi,_ the Dark rumbled back, focusing on him, triumph curdling the edges of their chilled touch.

Obi-Wan wrenched himself away from the cold fire, the Force’s calm disrupted. Anakin...Vader?...would be searching for him. For them. 

“What price, Master?” he whispered hoarsely.

 _“His children. His wife. Taken from him, they were, by the one he calls master. Realized this, he has. Come to you, he will.”_ The ancient master paused, and Obi-Wan could feel the indecision roiling in the former Grandmaster even as Yoda continued, _“New, this is. One has never turned back from the Dark. But with Skywalker, all things are possible. Careful, you must be. Give him the children, you must not. Not until you_ know.” The comm crackled as it turned off, leaving the silence heavier and somehow more anticipatory than before.

 _“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”_

_I still love you,_ Obi-Wan acknowledged bleakly. _I’ll always love you._ Yoda knew it. Did Anakin? Was there enough left of the boy he’d raised, _“You’re the closest thing I have to a father”_ , the man he’d served with, admired—

_—failed—_

—to turn back from the Dark?

And what was he going to do if there wasn’t?


	2. Secrets of the Tomb: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader finds Obi-Wan Kenobi and there is a much-needed partial clearing of the air between them. Qui-Gon's spirit has some advice to float to his Padawan. However, Obi-Wan himself doesn't actually have the twins...

Secrets of the Tomb: Part II

_Tatooine._

Vader glowered at the dust-coloured planet rapidly growing larger in his shuttle viewscreen, his loathing feeding the Dark coiling in his chest.

 _Kenobi_ , it rustled at him, flexing its claws at the promise of the power a bloodletting would bring. _Kill the traitor, the one who cut you down while screaming his love for you, make him pay for bringing you back to this worthless world…_

The Sith Lord had not wanted to credit the Force’s guidance as he re-wove the bond he shared with his one-time master. But it had been insistent. Obi-Wan was on Tatooine. That was where his children would be. 

He could not sense them, yet, hidden as they were in the Jedi’s exhausted shadow. But even from this distance, he could feel the fatigued combination of resignation and hope from his…former friend and ally. 

_Not so long ago you would not have hesitated to call him brother, father, best friend,_ whispered a voice he should expunge from his being. Darth Vader had been re-cast from the smoking husk of Skywalker’s body, but Anakin refused to die. 

Instead, his shadow-self dangled memories that danced at the back of Vader’s mind, too distant to suppress, too tantalizing to ignore. Recollections of shared laughter, of the way they fought in concert, of the fact that he had never been so attuned to another, even his wife, even his Padawan, as he was to Obi-Wan in the midst of battle. Padmé had been the light of his life, his beacon in a galaxy of pain and loss. But Obi-Wan…had been the other half of his soul, twin warriors cutting their swath across the galaxy and into history.

And now…now, as Tatooine grew larger in his vision, now he was unsure. Uncertain what path his future could, or should, take. A good Apprentice would be plotting even now to strike down the Jedi on the planet below. More so since their last encounter had ended with his total degradation, his imprisonment in this suit. He should be running his lightsaber through Kenobi before the other man could so much as speak.

 _“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”_ Past tense, or present wish? Perhaps Obi-Wan had every intention of drawing his ‘saber as Vader’s shuttle landed. 

The Force recoiled from him as if in disgust at his wayward thoughts. That was not the future he was walking into, and he knew it. Obi-Wan hadn’t had the strength to end him on Mustafar. All the righteous fury in the world, surging with adrenaline from their lethal duel, could not drive his one-time brother to kill him then. The famed Negotiator wouldn’t do so now.

And he was far from the good Apprentice he had pledged to be. He was far from the humiliated and burned-alive Sith Obi-Wan had left on the shores of a lava flow four short weeks ago. He noted with grim humor that the Force seemed not to care one iota whether he was Anakin or Vader – it yanked him about abruptly all the same, and was unclear as ever.

Not anymore. There were only two certainties he possessed: his children would not be doomed to grow up on the loathsome planet below, and he would not return to the tyrant that had stolen first his spirit and then his body. He could pretend, pretend as he had for years with the Council, pretend obedience from his knees to keep their precious children safe as he had once protected his marriage to Padmé, but never again would it be genuine. Never again would Sidious command his soul.

 _“Luke. Leia.”_ Now his only masters were the needs of his infant twins Obi-Wan had hidden.

**********

Obi-Wan made himself stand still as the Imperial shuttle landed on a barren patch of sand-scoured rock closer to the cliffs than the Jedi would have dared. A whimsical thought briefly lightened his apprehensive mood: at least the Dark Side had not stolen his friend’s love of challenging flying.

All whimsy vanished as the ramp lowered and Anakin – _Vader_ – strode out. Obi-Wan momentarily forgot to breathe.

He had avoided all mention of Vader on his already-limited holonet since Yoda had revealed the true face behind the Emperor’s new Apprentice. He had not seen any images of the Sith Lord, and he had not dared imagine what Anakin might look like after surviving his horrific injuries on Mustafar. 

_Injuries_ I _inflicted._

But the reality was beyond his nightmares. The weight of his cumbersome armor had changed Anakin’s smooth stride into an inexorable, pounding march. The mask was an implacable death’s stare, confining the mobile features Obi-Wan had taken cues from for fifteen years. 

And the violent physical changes were nothing compared to how Vader felt in the Force. He made no attempt to conceal himself, a burning-cold Force-storm fed by a relentless rage that scrubbed against Obi-Wan like blasted sand. In seconds, he felt raw and exposed, bleeding into the Force, pain rising to meet the agony of the man before him. 

_Why didn’t I go back for him? How could I have left him there, abandoned him, knowing he was burning? Why did I not take him with us to Polis Massa? They could have helped. I could have saved him…_ The burden of his failure, of his own cowardice, the panic for Padmé’s life and his own that had driven his instinct-fueled flight from their duel, descended heavily as Vader made his steady way across the narrow space. _If he is here to kill me, I hardly deserve less._

His lightsaber was at his belt, as it had been since he’d first constructed it, but Obi-Wan did not reach for the smooth hilt. 

“My children, Kenobi,” Vader’s deep, monotonous baritone was as different from Anakin’s expressive tenor as the rest of his reconstructed body. “Where are they?” The Sith stopped just far enough away to make a ‘saber battle difficult. 

Obi-Wan swallowed as he considered his answer, walling off his mind. He already knew of the twins. How? Who or what could have told him? 

He couldn’t read this version of the man he had known so well, and though the Force bond had reignited between them, it was a tortured shade of itself, drenched with impatience, anger, uncertainty. Was the fact that Vader hadn’t yet reached for his own blade a good sign? Or would he wait until he had what he wanted to kill his Jedi master? Anakin wouldn’t have waited. They’d already be at blows. _But Vader is_ not _Anakin,_ his stomach roiled as he remembered the slaughter of the Temple’s younglings.

Just like that, the fury and fear and throbbing betrayal that had taken him to Mustafar surged. Obi-Wan tightened his fists and watched Vader’s hand inch towards the saber at his own belt in response. 

“Going to kill them, too, are you?” the older Jedi asked bitterly.

Now he _couldn’t_ breathe. Vader stretched a hand towards him, ruthlessly choking off his air. Just as he had wrapped the Force around his wife’s neck. It was easy to imagine the snarl beneath the mask. “Do not waste my time with your supposed cleverness, Kenobi.” The pressure on his windpipe eased slightly, allowing him a choked gasp. “I could feel your guilt from orbit. Where. Are. They?”

 _“With Skywalker, all things are possible.”_ Including redemption. But also that he might be irredeemable. This was not a good start. 

_What are you doing?_ a much-missed voice, long gone, startled him. _This is your brother. Your son. Your Padawan. A man you love as I loved you. You have felt the Light within him, even now that it is sheathed in the Dark. No more illusions to detachment, Obi-Wan,_ Qui-Gon Jinn’s gentle reproof rustled in his mind, _no more fighting. He needs to know. He has_ always _needed to know._

_Be mindful of the Force…_

“Anakin—”

“That is NOT my name,” Vader snarled. But the hold on his throat was gone.

Obi-Wan took a deep inhale, reminding himself that Vader was both a desperate stranger and his dearest friend. “I will not call you by an evil title granted by a greater villain. That is not who you are.”

“Judgmental as always,” the Sith sneered. “Never pausing to think that perhaps you never knew _who_ I was.”

“No. In many important ways, it is clear I did not,” Obi-Wan answered honestly. Vader stilled, and in the twisted bond, the Jedi could feel his confusion at the change of pace. Around them, the Force calmed. “And what is even clearer is that I chose not to see important parts of you because I deliberately blinded myself.” When the Dark Lord made no response, Obi-Wan felt his way forward carefully.

“Family has always been important to you, Anakin. From the day I first met you, that was abundantly obvious. I have long considered you my brother, my son, my best friend.” Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure where these confessions were coming from. They were heresies to the Order, admitting the deepest of attachments—

 _When were you_ not _attached?_ Qui-Gon’s voice floated lightly to his ears, and even now, Obi-Wan could hear the amusement accompanying admonishment in his old master’s tone. _When you wept over my body as I lay dying? When you charged into danger with whole battalions to save this man time after time, with never a thought for leaving him and his Padawan to their fate? When you nearly Fell and murdered Darth Maul in rage after Satine’s assassination?_

“But I never told you. I thought that you just knew. And I expected that since I loved you so much, and felt your love for me, we would be the same. Brothers in all things – even the things we were denied. In your love for Padmé I saw the mirror of my love for Satine, and assumed that you, too, suffered the pain of a requited love that had to be set aside. I did not see that your love for a family of your own and her equal fervor would result in a marriage, in two children, in the strain of feeling that you had to be dishonest with me.” Vader jerked violently, but before he could interrupt, Obi-Wan was continuing, “And for that, I owe you the deepest of apologies. You should have never felt you had to lie to protect yourself from me, from my judgment. I should have been the brother I thought I was and always accepted _all_ of you.”

Vader was quiet for some time following this pronouncement. Obi-Wan felt flickers of gratitude brush their bond, but it was marred by strong bitterness. 

“Had you said any of that two months ago, _Master,_ ” the Jedi flinched at the word, “it would have made the difference. Padmé might yet be alive, and I whole, and our twins with their parents, as they belong. _But you didn’t._ You held your silence and drove me straight into the arms of the one who spent two decades dismantling our world. The man who killed my wife. You went to Mustafar to capture or kill me if you had to. I cannot make you understand how desperately I now wish that you had succeeded. If you had, Padmé would have lived.”

Vader’s hand moved to his belt, resting on his ‘saber. “Whatever you felt for Skywalker, you have failed. And I am finished with having that which is mine stolen. I will not ask you again. Where?”

“Will you hand them to the Emperor? If that is your plan, you are welcome to kill me. I will not help him ruin anyone else’s life.”

“Despite your pretty words, you still don’t trust me. As you never did.”

“It is you who insists that you are Vader, not Anakin. I trust Anakin with my life. Vader is a Sith. You know how Jedi feel about Sith.”

“I am...neither,” Vader ground out after a long moment. “I was never a good Jedi, and I have no intention of following a Sith a single step further.”

“I am grateful to hear it. The love of a father is incompatible with the teachings of both,” Obi-Wan offered quietly. Vader stared at him. 

“You’re stalling, Kenobi. Do not forget that _I was there_ while you polished your silver tongue on politicians of all worlds. I will not be pacified by fancy conversation. The _only_ reason you’re still breathing is that you have something I need.”

The Jedi sighed. “What is your plan, Anakin?”

The Dark snarled. _NOT MY NAME._ But Anakin Skywalker recognized his former master’s capitulation for what it was, and shoved the instincts of the Dark Side away. “ _I_ will raise them. I will take them where they cannot be traced. My master cannot know of them. Not until they are strong enough to destroy him.”

Obi-Wan blanched at the bald fury clawing behind the mask, at the bright, cold resolution that these babes in the cradle would one day be the downfall of the Emperor. 

However, it was nothing Yoda hadn’t already considered. Already planned. The re-birth of the Jedi Order had to start with the destruction of the Sith. And Vader, ironically, might be the one up to the task of ensuring such a possibility. Especially if…

“I would like to stay with them. With you.”

 _“What?”_ ‘Startled’ did not translate well in the vocodor’s monotone, but Obi-Wan felt it resonate around them like a shockwave. He could hardly credit the words himself, but the Force sang with rightness around him, bolstering his ridiculous request. 

“You heard me.”

“ _Why_ do you think I would ever let _you_ near _my_ children?” 

“Because you need me, Anakin. Like I need you. Like we have always needed each other. Because we are _family._ ”

It was the wrong thing to say. The Force around him froze as Vader’s rage roared, shadows of scarlet whipping the sand into a scouring tornado, stinging his exposed face and hands. “Family you sliced to ribbons and left to burn, Kenobi! Just like you allowed the Council to expel your grandpadawan for a crime she hadn’t committed!” 

“Because the twins will be powerful, and you won’t be able to be with them constantly and maintain your position with the Emperor. Which you must maintain if they are to grow up without interference.” Obi-Wan’s quiet, pervasive logic penetrated the storm, seeking the kernel of rejected longing that fueled the fury. The part of Anakin long accustomed to resenting his master’s impeccable reasoning surged, bitter and familiar…and hopeful.

“Because I failed you. I failed you with your mother—” the fury spiked again, but Obi-Wan spread the Force around them, dampening Vader next interruption “—I failed you and Ahsoka when I couldn’t convince the Council, I failed you on Mustafar, and I failed you and Padmé when she died in childbirth. I am _tired_ of failing you – of being absent when I am most needed. You are not the only one who has fallen, who has struggled with re-birth in the wake of the Purge. These Skywalkers will need us both.” He focused on the seemingly-blank lenses, knowing he had every atom of the not-Sith’s attention. 

“Do we have a deal?”

**********

_Ever the Negotiator, Master,_ Anakin/Vader thought, and surprised himself by the fond nostalgia threaded through the recognition. He throttled the warmth. It had no place in his life.

But. _“I am…neither.”_ Even as he’d sought Kenobi, he hadn’t clarified this point to himself. There was only himself and his children in his suddenly-narrowed vision. 

But it was true. He was not Anakin – he couldn’t be, Anakin was a better husband than to have reached for his wife in anger, a better man than to have slaughtered children—

_—and even though he had embraced Vader, enthralled by the power of the Dark, eager for the forbidden secrets it sang, he cringed at that memory. Children were not worthy opponents, it was beneath a true Sith to sully his blade with the blood of one who offered no challenge to his strength—_

—but nor was he Vader, servant – slave – of the Emperor, enforcer of the whims of the man who had murdered his wife. 

_You would let_ him _deprive you of what you are?_ the Dark Side whispered, unimpressed by his hesitation. _He is but an insect to your power._ The Force whirled around him, smoke and shadow setting the edges of his mind on fire. Obi-Wan dared mention his mother, dishonored Padmé by speaking her name when he had maimed her husband… _He does not deserve to be your master,_ it hummed to him, bathing him in a tide of furious refusal. _He never did. Always, you surpassed him. Always, he knew it. Always, he held you back._ Darkness assured him of his greatness, of the surety of his path within its embrace. _And now he wishes to crow about love, when you have reached the true pinnacles of power and felt its source?_

_“Our baby is a blessing.”_ A call from his previous life froze him before he could reach for Kenobi’s treacherous throat.

 _“Luke.” “Leia.”_ The memory of Padmé offering up their names, that gift of love, that life-giving power – her final act – smothered the scornful Dark. They were loved. And wanted. Anakin/Vader had felt the source of genuine power. It was not what the Sith offered. It was not what the Jedi demanded. 

It _was_ in the twin bonds still braided to his own mind, mangled as they were. Kenobi and Tano, masters, apprentices, lineages, families. It would be in the bond he would share with his children. 

Anakin/Vader stared at the man who had raised him, trained him, fought at his back and failed to finish the job of killing him, and the rage burning at the edges of his mind battled with a new, wild camaraderie. Their bond twisted uncomfortably under the pressure. Under his mask, his lips stretched in a feral smile. Being Vader’s ally would be nothing like being Anakin’s master. Kenobi could live with being uncomfortable. 

His old master was consenting to live under his jurisdiction for the foreseeable future. Bond or no, power or no, Anakin/Vader could still one day decide to kill him if necessary. It was the best way to keep an eye on the wily Jedi. 

“We have a deal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's where I'm leaving it for this week. Thank you for reading! See you next Friday and let me know what you think!


	3. Secrets of the Tomb: Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader and Obi-Wan go to find the twins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our duo set out to retrieve the twins and have tough conversations with Beru and the Organas.

Secrets of the Tomb: Part III

“What do you mean, they’re _not both here?_ ” Vader roared. Obi-Wan felt phantom fingers grasp at him, perilously close to his throat, and he exhaled long and slow, gently reaching out to soothe the roiling Force, encouraging the sudden claws to relax.

“Luke was brought to Owen and Beru Lars. Your stepbrother and his wife,” Obi-Wan said quietly. “Leia went to the Organas. They have struggled to conceive and—”

“And _of course_ that entitled them to _my_ daughter,” Vader cut him off furiously, his hand slashing the air. “I hardly care about a feeble politician’s lack of virility. What possessed you to allow them to be separated?”

“We had to separate them, Anakin. Their power together is considerable, even in infancy. We had to keep them hidden.”

“Ah, yes. Force forbid their father find them.”

“Force forbid the _Emperor_ find them.” Obi-Wan stressed, frowning faintly. “I know you have no desire for your children to be part of the Emperor’s games, Anakin. Why so much distress over a decision made to keep them safe?”

“Organa is a politician and viceroy for a Core world known to be hostile to the birth of the Empire. Leia is more likely to come to my master’s attention – and mine, for that matter – on Alderaan than almost any other planet, aside from Coruscant. Hardly a wise strategy.”

It also meant travelling with Kenobi into the Core. It was not a risk-free proposition. After the care his old master had taken to hide them at all, a mistake like this seemed out of character. 

Vader shot him a sidelong irritated glance that Obi-Wan could easily interpret beneath the mask. During the war, such looks elicited only sighs. Coming from this black-clad behemoth he knew and feared in turns, it was bizarrely comforting. “I thought you were one of our foremost military strategists, old man.”

“I am hardly an old man, Anakin,” Obi-Wan corrected the easy insult mildly, though he was embarrassed to admit that his…friend?...had for once considered the consequences more thoroughly than the Jedi. 

_Breathe, Obi-Wan,_ and he wasn’t sure if that was Qui-Gon’s current advice or just a memory, but the lesson from his Padawan days stood out in stark relief: decisions made in haste were oft regretted. He had not stopped to even think of breathing since his saber had first clashed with Anakin’s over a lava field. He doubted Yoda had either. Bail’s suggestion had been born of love on a day of loss, his eagerness to bring Leia into his home a welcome relief. An easy way out.

Now it presented them with problems. As the easy path always did. 

_And it was always_ I _you accused of not thinking ahead._ The humour leaking through their strained bond was tinted a darker shade than Anakin’s, but Obi-Wan felt a sudden difficulty breathing that had nothing to do with the Force as all his emotions clamoured at once with this unexpected contact.

“Shall we retrieve Luke first?” he asked after he managed to swallow the absurd threat of tears. “He will be the easier of the two.”

“Indeed.”

**********

Vader could feel his son as they approached the sand worn homestead. Luke’s signature, familiar from his Force vision, radiated from the house like a small lantern. Obi-Wan was right. Even alone, his son’s potential was clear. In time, it would become an inferno. For now, it pulsed faintly, and he was obscurely pleased that his son’s projections into the Force were soothingly content.

This was in sharp contrast to the woman who saw them as they ducked down the stairs. 

Beru’s complexion skipped pale and went straight to white when Ben Kenobi walked into their house, casually trailing the already-famous Darth Vader. She clutched Luke, who had stopped feeding from his bottle the instant the two men entered. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to meet the Jedi’s gaze.

There was no panic in the blue eyes, no fear. But there was pain. And sorrow. Her grip on her nephew tightened.

She nerved herself to risk a glance at the massive shadow of the Emperor’s enforcer, the man credited with the destruction of the treacherous Jedi at their temple and the Separatist leadership, with ending the war. What they were doing in her house together she could not guess, and would not ask. Licking her lips in a desperate effort to compose herself, she swallowed and lifted her head. 

“Master Kenobi. My Lord Vader. You humble us by visiting our home. How can I serve you?” She was proud that her voice didn’t crack, even a little. 

Neither man answered her immediately, and she noticed Vader’s attention seemed entirely trained on the infant in her arms.

“This is not your son,” Vader rumbled finally.

She blinked, resisting the urge to shield the baby from the monster. “No, my lord. He is my nephew. My husband’s stepbrother’s son.”

“I see.”

“I understand his parents died in the war, fighting for the Empire. Just before it ended,” she added quietly. Her eyes flickered to Kenobi. The Jedi’s story, then, Vader knew. But there was no undercurrent of deception from the young woman in front of him. She was repeating only what she believed to be true. 

“His strength in the Force is remarkable.”

To that, she made no reply. Kenobi had clearly told her that Anakin’s name and status were off-limits. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “There’s no easy way to say this, Beru, so I’ll just say it: we have to take Luke with us.”

“What?” Now she did twist Luke away from them, fear and anger in her stance as she protected her ward, glaring at the Jedi, suddenly unmindful of Vader’s presence. “ _You_ said he needed a home. You told us he would be safe here, that he was ours.”

The former general sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Beru, you know who this is.”

Her gaze fastened once again on the Dark Lord, and he watched her visibly summon her courage. “Please, my lord, a child so young would be a burden…he would be nothing but trouble for a man of your station. Leave him with us. He will attend the Academy when he is older, ready to serve the Empire, if that is your wish.”

“Your zeal does you credit, Beru Whitesun Lars,” – and she went whiter still, faint as blood rushed in her ears, how did _this man_ know her name? – “I appreciate your concern for the boy. Nevertheless, he is coming with me.” At that, Vader extended his arms, and Obi-Wan could feel impatience surging across their bond. 

_My son._ ” Vader’s gaze fixed greedily on the little thatch of hair that was all he could currently see. _Give me my son._

Beru stared at Obi-Wan helplessly, and the Jedi spread his hands, equally powerless. “Things have changed, Beru. I am truly sorry. But the boy _must_ come with us.”

“You’re going too?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.”

The water farmer sniffed as tears wet her lashes. “He’s a dear boy. Sweet, happy. Not too fussy. A bit colicky. You’ll need to walk him after eating, and he likes his stomach rubbed.”

Vader crooked his fingers in a command, and Beru seemed to suddenly realize she’d kept the most feared man in the galaxy _waiting_ as she babbled about an infant’s habits. Gently, with no small amount of reluctance, she laid Luke in Vader’s hands. The black gloves dwarfed the baby, surprisingly careful as her hands lingered, reluctant to relinquish her hold.

Sunrise burst on Vader’s consciousness, momentarily wiping him clean as his son reached and recognized his father, his point of origin, a source of love he’d felt as he grew from a cluster of cells to an infant bright in the Force. The Dark Lord stared down at his son, entranced by the tiny, waving fist and the vaguely kicking legs, by the light eyes still struggling to focus even as the Force wrapped around them, forging their connection.

“He’s perfect.” He was only vaguely aware of having said it out loud. He could feel Beru’s shock, Obi-Wan’s smile at the very edges of his mind. He did not bother to look at either of them. Why should he, with his son in his hands? 

“Thank you, Beru,” Obi-Wan was bowing his thanks to the still-white, drawn face of the woman who would have been Anakin’s sister-in-law in another lifetime. He kept half an eye on the green-white Force light dancing along his apprentice’s arms, reaching to caress and embrace the infant so intent on his father. 

_Be mindful of the Force._ It seemed the Force approved of Vader’s relationship with his son. Obi-Wan let out a long breath he hadn’t known he was holding, his burden slightly lighter.

“Take care of him,” Beru managed, her distrust of Vader clear. After all, she had no vision with which to see his sincerity.

“You have my word.”

They were back out of the dwelling, their boots eating the sand by the time Vader managed to pull his gaze from the tiny child who comprised half his universe to note Obi-Wan striding awkwardly, burdened by a large bag Beru had clearly conjured to take Luke’s things. 

“Alderaan.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He was committed to this course now, the Force solid in its certitude. That hardly meant it was going to be easy. “Yes. Now for the hard part.”

**********

“ _Surprising him_ is the best idea you can come up with?” Vader pressed as he directed the aft thrusters to set them down gently on a landing pad connected to a beautiful, snow-covered mountain estate. He turned towards his former master as he powered down the shuttle and let it commence its cool-down sequence after re-entry. Luke gurgled from the hastily-adapted drawer-turned-babyseat, and Vader could feel his son’s pleasure in flying.

“Force, he’s going to be _just like you,_ ” Obi-Wan announced as he felt it too, sinking back in his co-pilot seat. “You Skywalkers will have me completely grey by forty.”

Vader stilled, halfway risen. It was such a – a normal, such an _Obi-Wan_ – thing to say. When was the last time his master had teased him like that? 

_“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”_ He drew a veil over the roiling emotions Obi-Wan’s reactions evoked, pulling the Dark around him, seeking the peace of its mindless hunger. The temperature in the cabin plummeted and the Jedi frowned up at him. Luke began to fuss, sensitive to the sudden cold. 

“You’re going to have to think about that,” Obi-Wan warned, wariness drawing his relaxed posture taut. “Both twins will be aware of it, and it won’t be long before they know what it means.”

“It means power. It will be their tool, no less than it is mine,” Vader retorted sharply. In contrast to his tone, his mechanical hands operated at their gentlest setting as he reached for Luke, allowing the baby to get stubby fingers around half a digit on his gloves. 

Obi-Wan sighed, decided not to pursue it. He and Anakin had always had philosophical disagreements on Jedi doctrine for reasons both known and unnamed for a decade. He would leave it for now. They would have years to debate ideology while they trained the twins. 

As long as whatever was left of Anakin ensured that Vader kept his word and he survived that long. 

“I think it will be best if I start the meeting with Bail alone,” he ventured. 

Vader stiffened, held in place by his son’s grip on his finger, but the Force pulsed with a nearly-visible shadow as his head turned, and there was menace in every loud breath. “You seem to think I have a greater trust in you than I do, Kenobi. I have not forgotten how I came to be imprisoned in this armor, even if it is expedient for you to gloss over those memories. You will _not_ have a chance to speak to Organa and warn him. He is no water farmer on Tatooine. He has the resources to make a planetary search difficult and time-consuming, which will bring it to the attention of the Emperor and destroy any chance we have of retrieving my daughter quietly, perhaps at all. I will come with you.”

“He will resist,” Obi-Wan offered quietly.

“I am sure he will. But House Organa is already known for its defiance of the Empire. If he wishes to leave his wife a widow, I suggest he provoke me. The Emperor is aware of his treachery, and will not be dismayed by his removal.”

The Jedi stared at him, sorrow shaping the Force between them at this reminder of who Vader was, who he had been made to be, the purpose of the Emperor in fashioning a man-shaped weapon.

“No matter what you call me, I am _not_ Anakin Skywalker,” his deep voice dipped low. “Do not seek to find him beneath this mask. It would do you and Organa well to remember that.” He gestured to Obi-Wan’s wrist armor and the still-working commlink therein. “Summon him. Do not think to give him any warning.”

**********

The comm on Bail Organa’s desk chirped. The politician frowned over at it, only to lunge toward it as the name flashed. He hadn’t expected to hear anything from either Jedi for at least a year, probably five. They had agreed to lie low and allow the Empire time to forget their existence.

For what reason would General Kenobi be contacting him a bare handful of weeks later? Especially on a short-range comm network. How could he possibly be on Alderaan?

“Organa here,” he answered neutrally remembering his hasty lessons in basic subterfuge. Was it even the general on the other end of the line?

 _“Bail.”_ It was him. He would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Ben!” He knew he was smiling. “This is an unexpected pleasure. Are you nearby?”

_“I’m at the Refuge.”_

The mountain estate. Bail winced. Nothing good then. Maybe something— “Is Luke with you?” 

A long sigh crackled over the comm. _“He is. I must ask you to bring Leia and Breha and meet us here.”_

“Of course, my friend,” Bail agreed readily. It sounded like something had happened to Luke’s guardians. Upsetting as that was, he knew Breha would be thrilled to raise both twins. She had been silently disapproving of his decision not to press for custody of Luke since she’d learned Leia had a brother. 

Closing the line to the general, he called his wife.

**********

Their first inkling that all was not what they would have expected was when their pilot opened the hangar to the Refuge and the stark triangular silhouette of an Imperial shuttle cast its shadow over the snow.

“Was he followed?” Breha breathed, and Bail could hear her fear.

“Sir, shall I pull up?” the lieutenant asked.

His comm crackled and Bail opened the channel cautiously.

 _“The shuttle is our ship, Bail. We were not followed.”_ Breha shot him a look that plainly said _Jedi_ , to which Bail could only shrug. He did not know the man well, but General Kenobi coming into possession of an enemy spacecraft was hardly the most outlandish of the stories told about him.

“Set her down,” he ordered his pilot.

When the ramp lowered and the kicked-up snow cleared to reveal who stood just inside the hangar bay, Bail stopped breathing.

He did not see General Kenobi. The Emperor’s enforcer, the butcher who had slaughtered a temple full of Jedi children, loomed, framed by the hangar doors.

He hit the emergency button on his wrist-comm. It would be flashing in the cockpit, telling the pilot to call for the Home Guard. 

“Get back in the ship,” he whispered frantically to Breha at his side, Leia bundled against the cold in her arms. 

No sooner had his wife started to turn than she stopped. Her eyes grew wide with terror as she glanced at him. “I can’t move!” 

Bail looked at the black-clad giant. He had moved no closer, but his right arm was extended, anchoring Breha in place. Even as he stared in horror, he heard the sparks and hissing of massive electrical failure in the ship behind them. Darth Vader was a Dark Jedi, as he had suspected from the few pieces of reliable information his spies had been able to glean from the Temple Massacre. There would be no escape, and no calling for help. 

They had but one guard, their doctor, and the pilot with them. Against a fighter of Vader’s strength and power, they stood no chance. They had to hope that General Kenobi was here, safe, and planning a way out.

Time to be a politician. “Lord Vader!” he called, his voice muted by the snow swirling around them. “My wife and I were merely startled. Forgive our lack of preparation. We had no idea you would be joining us.”

“As intended, Viceroy. I thought that privacy would better suit our conversation.”

 _I am going to die,_ the senator thought bleakly. But perhaps he could manage to keep Vader in a good enough mood to spare his family. “This is an ideal place for delicate matters. If I could show you inside…?” he was inching down the ramp, hoping to take the Dark Lord’s attention from Breha. _Where_ was Kenobi?

“Your wife and the child, too, Viceroy.” 

His blood froze. If Vader was specifying Leia…he should have asked Kenobi what the man was doing here! Vader had obviously followed him…

…or was the Jedi even here? Had _Vader_ been faking it all along? And if he had…had Bail just unwittingly betrayed Luke in his eagerness to foster the boy in his household? 

Plastering his best Senate smile on in an effort to keep his sudden, violent nausea at bay, he offered his arm to his wife as if this were an everyday court function. Vader released his hold on her, and she pivoted slowly to take his arm with her free hand. Bail could feel Breha shaking, but her head drew up like the queen she was as they crossed the open hangar.

As they drew closer to the doors, Bail saw Vader’s helm tilt downward to track their progress, and realized with horror that the Sith’s entire focus was on _Leia_.

 _Separating them was supposed to hide them,_ he could not control the panicked thought. It seemed that Vader had no difficulty sensing the Force potential that Obi-Wan and Yoda had assured Bail was strong. 

“What assistance can Alderaan offer you, my Lord?” he asked, stopping a meter from the implacable man and using every skill in his arsenal to keep his fear from showing on his face. 

“I am not here for whatever pathetic assistance your rebellious world might think it can offer, Viceroy. Nor am I here to mete out punishment, richly though this government deserves it. I am here for _my daughter_.” Bail’s heart jumped painfully, even as seeds of doubt twisted in him. _Daughter?_

Vader could feel both his confusion and the desperate love this man and his wife already had for his child. It was strangely mollifying, and he tilted his head at the stunned couple. 

Breha recovered first. “Your…? My Lord, forgive me, I don’t follow. You have a daughter? And you believe her to be here?”

“You’re holding her, Breha,” Obi-Wan Kenobi’s voice materialized behind Vader’s bulk as he trudged towards them. “And I thought we were doing this in a civilized manner over tea?” The second statement was to the suited Dark Lord, and it was so scolding, so _familiar_ , that the credit dropped. Bail felt everything in him tighten as all the planet’s oxygen seemed to disappear.

The politician glared at Obi-Wan, betrayal stamped in his drawn brows. “You told me Anakin Skywalker was _dead_!” he accused hoarsely. “You told me they had _no family_ , that we had to keep them from the Emperor. And now…” he waved a hand at Vader, shuddered, “now _he_ is Skywalker? And you _told_ him?”

“The Force did,” Obi-Wan sighed. “When he came to me, he already knew of them both.”

“But... _why_?” 

“Because they are _mine_ , Viceroy. So far I have exercised patience. Do not make me regret it,” Vader growled.

“Anakin. Please. I do not know. Any faith I had in myself to understand the will of the Force is gone, Bail. It does what it wills and the rest of us are just along for the ride. It gave Anakin—”

“Vader,” the Sith interrupted irritably.

“— _him_ ,” Obi-Wan tossed his head irritably at Vader, “a vision.”

“And what do you plan to do with her?” Bail demanded of Vader, glancing at Breha. Her eyes were wide, her breath coming in rapid puffs of frozen air. _Make this not be happening,_ her gaze pleaded with him. _Tell me he isn’t going to take her._

But he _was_ there to take her and there was _nothing_ Bail could do about it.

“That is not _your_ concern,” Vader snarled, stalking forward. As he did, his cape flared open, and Bail’s gaze unerringly found Luke, set in the crook of his father’s arm. 

“Luke…” Bail whispered. 

“Give me Leia,” the dark man ordered.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving the cold planes of Vader’s relentless mask, Bail lowered himself to his knees, his wife falling to the snow alongside him, heedless of the freezing water soaking their clothes. “Please, my Lord, I beg you. Let us raise her. It is difficult to keep a child on a military vessel while you attend to your many duties for our Empire. We love her so dearly, she will never want for anything in this house—”

“Except the father and brother she will know are missing. You have no right to her, Organa. You never did. It is unfortunate that the Jedi chose to deceive you as they did everyone else, but the truth is now before you. I am her father, alive and well–” Vader ignored Obi-Wan’s spike of disbelief at the last word “–and she has her family. Give. Her. To. Me.”

“Anakin—”

“Silence, Kenobi. I have tolerated your presence, but the Viceroy knows that I am already offering an exceedingly generous deal. He is aware of the price of refusal. Choose wisely, Organa.”

Bail bowed his head, defeated. Vader had not left him any reasonable options. He could not condemn his wife, his people for a fight he could not win. He wasn’t sure what Obi-Wan’s part was in all of this, but he had arrived with Vader – apparently of his own free will. The politician couldn’t count on help from that quarter. 

“Breha,” he whispered. “We don’t have a choice. I am so sorry, my love.”

“I…my Lord, _please_ …” Breha begged, gripping Leia tightly enough that she protested, squirming. From the recesses of Vader’s cape, Luke made a matching mewling sound. 

“You shall have to look elsewhere for a child, Your Majesty,” Vader denied her, empty arm outstretched to accept his second child. “I cannot leave my daughter where my master will discover her.”

Both Organas flinched visibly at that. “I am sure that you were told she could be hidden. Another Jedi falsehood,” Vader continued coldly. “Given Imperial suspicion of this world and your family, _that_ would be highly unlikely. If indeed you value this child as you claim, giving her to the only one who could protect her from the predations of the Emperor should please you.”

Viceroy and queen shared a long look. This was a far cry from what they’d expected from the Emperor’s right hand. But then, they had hardly foreseen the Emperor’s Fist to be Anakin Skywalker. 

Even so, nothing could make handing Leia to this unfeeling cyborg hurt less. Their sweet Leia. What could this man possibly know of infants? How could this…machine…provide her what she needed?

Bail climbed to his feet as if he’d aged a decade. Obi-Wan’s hand was extended to help him rise, but he deliberately ignored it.

For the first time, he wondered how much of the Imperial propaganda about the lies of the Jedi was rooted in fact. 

He helped his wife up and leaned over the infant who had briefly been the brightest star in his personal constellation. He kissed her cold-reddened cheeks, blinking away his tears. Breha wept openly as she pressed kisses in turn to Leia’s forehead, nose, chin and every other patch of skin still open to the air. 

Vader could feel his daughter's nascent affection for these foster parents, and it stayed his impatient hand. Taking Leia from the hands of Breha’s cooling corpse might have been a swifter method of extraction, but there would have been complications in short order. Now there would be no suspicions. No trails for a spy to follow. The Organas would be given a story to explain her sudden absence to the few who knew of her, and his master would never even know he’d been here. 

The logic was impeccable, but another truth slithered through it, one he had thus far refused to acknowledge: he had no desire to kill them. He would not flinch from it if they forced his hand, but he had spent his life killing Separatist scum and now traitorous Jedi, not unarmed civilians. Not his wife’s friends. That a bloodletting would delight the Dark Side just…wasn’t sufficiently impelling. 

As if following his line of thought, Breha finally lifted her head from where she’d buried her nose in Leia’s wispy baby curls, and took a deep, steadying breath. Slowly, she approached the Dark Lord and laid the infant in his massive hand. 

Light the Organas could not see erupted as the three remaining members of the Skywalker family stood together, weaving father, daughter, and son into the Force in shades of brilliant green and white, limned by a shadow of crimson arced protectively over them. 

_Father. Daughter. Son._ Obi-Wan’s memory of Mortis and the enormous power of the three beings he, Anakin and Ahsoka had met there surged, almost tangible in its vividness. Light. Dark. 

The Balance. 

_“One who will bring balance to the Force…”_ Qui-Gon’s fervent words echoed in Obi-Wan’s ears, overlapped by his own furious accusation: 

_“You were supposed to destroy the Sith, not join them!”_

Was _this_ the balance? A reality far beyond the reach of the Jedi? A trio of astonishing ability – a father who had been both hero and villain, children who could be one each? His conscious mind decried the thought of condemning one of the twins, but the Force whispered through him.

 _Watch,_ it warned gently. _Judge not. Plan not. Observe._ There had been no situation, no relationship like the one between Vader/Anakin and his children in living memory. 

There had been no Sith like Vader ever. 

_Trust,_ the Force crooned, and the light around the family pulsed brighter. 

When his vision cleared, the blinding reunion fading into the Force, Obi-Wan found himself staring at two stone-faced monarchs. 

“Lord Vader, if there is nothing else Alderaan can offer today?” Bail’s words were correct, but his tone was biting. Vader merely inclined his head, tolerating the politician’s insult in light of the circumstances.

“You have been most helpful, Viceroy. Your Majesty.” He started for his shuttle, black boots eating the distance as his children cooed to each other. 

“Bail, I—” Obi-Wan started.

“Why?” the viceroy cut across him, voice cold and hard. “Why would you allow us to take her?” _Why allow us to learn to love her, to dream of her future when her father lived, when he is_ this _man, when he would never stand for such an insult?_ All three of them knew that Vader’s presence could have spelled their deaths. It was due only to some mercurial twist of his mood that they were all still breathing.

“I am truly sorry,” the Jedi bowed his head to hide his genuine grief. “I did not lie to you, Senator, Your Majesty. When you volunteered to foster Leia, I thought both of her parents _were_ dead.” Bail almost snorted, but Obi-Wan’s expression stilled his contempt. Here was a man fighting with himself, hopeful, pained, angry, confused. And so, so guilty. Neither ruler needed the Force to see the shattering conflict in the man before them. 

“I never…it never occurred to me that Anakin could survive the injuries I gave him, even when I didn’t have the stomach to strike the final blow myself. And when he arrived on Tatooine…” Obi-Wan took a deep, shuddering breath, closed his eyes, shook his head. 

“So I am left to beg your forgiveness for another crime that cannot be reconciled. This is an anomaly. I have no training, no guide. No Council to consult or Archives to investigate. There is only the Force, and what I can glean of what it wills. The Force approves of their reunion – which I know is small comfort to you and the Lars’ – and I have to hope that it will return Anakin to them. To us. To the galaxy that still needs him.”

An awful gamble. Especially with two innocents. But Anakin was Obi-Wan’s last remaining family. To what lengths would a man not go, to save his brother? 

Bail knew a corner of his heart would grieve Leia’s loss for the rest of his life. But much as he wanted to, he could not hate the beleaguered, fate-tossed man who had gifted her, only to snatch her away. 

The thrusters on the Imperial shuttle began their pre-launch warming cycle. Obi-Wan sighed. “Impatient as always,” he muttered, and there was a fondness in his tone that gave Bail an absurd lift of hope.

“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” the viceroy said, surprising himself with his sincerity through his exhaustion.

Obi-Wan paused mid-turn, looking back at them with his clear blue eyes. “And with all of us, Viceroy. Your Majesty.”


	4. Secrets of the Tomb: Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader finds a place to keep Obi-Wan and his children safe from the Emperor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Commander Appo and Commander Cody will make their appearance here. 
> 
> And so we reach the end! It has some slight fluff, and some very Vader thinking. This fic ended up being more about the brotherhood of Anakin and Obi-Wan than Vader's relationship with the twins, which was not the original plan, but I've enjoyed delving into Obi-Wan as a character.

Secrets of the Tomb: Part IV

Scarcely had they broken Alderaan’s atmosphere when a comm beeped. Obi-Wan reached for his wrist on instinct, only to notice it silent.

Fury spiked in the Force, driving like a nail between his eyes in the instant backwash of a power headache. Luke whimpered. Leia shrieked.

“Anakin, what—?”

“It is my – the Emperor,” Vader turned abruptly from the console. “I must answer. I was plotting coordinates to Ryloth. Set a course and wait for my signal.”

_Ryloth?_ Six weeks ago, when the man before him was still Anakin, Obi-Wan would have crossed his arms and asked. Now, he watched Vader sweep out of the cockpit, taking the maelstrom of Force-bound hatred with him. Luke and Leia continued to fuss in their make-shift carriers of metal and torn crash webbing. The Jedi reached out with the Force to soothe them, and when they continued to rustle, twisting about and getting louder as they couldn’t free themselves, he hesitantly held a hand out to both of them, allowing their flailing fingers to find his larger ones and grab hold.

“It’ll be all right,” he murmured to them, hoping that it would, indeed, be alright. Jedi traditions of non-attachment meant he was adrift in completely uncharted territory. Force-sensitive children were never identified and brought to the Temple this young. Those few Jedi who had left the Order to wed may or may not have had children, and none had the raw power of the Skywalkers. He had borne witness to the way the Force welded these three together. Whatever their father felt, the twins were likely to know. He set about shielding them, setting his own presence between their glowing Light and their father’s scouring Dark as the whirlwind in Vader grew.

“Father’s just away talking to someone,” he continued in a light voice, hardly daring to believe he referred to Vader in such a fashion. But he was their father, and it wasn’t the twins’ fault. “He’ll be back any minute. And then we’ll get going.”

He gritted his teeth against the Forcestorm raging from his former apprentice, tried to swallow it before it could upset the children. But far from the terrified cries Obi-Wan expected, the twins were reaching _back_. Luke, whose brightness shone the butter-yellow of midday on his mother’s world, and Leia, whose touch on the Force was laced with the blue of Naboo’s seas, poked the red-and-black thundercloud of their father. 

At their contact, Vader yanked himself in. Obi-Wan gasped, eyes snapping open (when had he closed them?), and felt sweat beading on his forehead from his attempt to protect them. But the Dark Lord made his own effort, consciously pulling himself under control, walling off his rage. The tendril of the Dark that continued to snake from Vader to his children was flavoured by a protective instinct, blood-red anger replaced by an almost-purple, warm, soothing shield. _Mine,_ it promised them tenderly. _All will be well because you are mine and I will_ make it _well._

The twins floated contented bubbles of blue-and-yellow Light into the Force around them, the gentle Dark buoyed between them.

Obi-Wan set a course for Ryloth and his future, wondering if he really knew anything at all about the Force he’d devoted his life to studying.

**********

It was another month before Vader, the twins, and Obi-Wan set foot planetside. It was not on Ryloth.

The Empire shared its birth with a small, sickly, but resilient, twin. A rebellion against the destruction of the Republic had formed more or less immediately. Former Republic cruisers under the commands of admirals who would not defer to the new seat of power were vanishing, only to raid Imperial worlds, supply lines, and colonies.

They were few in number, but deeply rankling to Imperial leadership. Obi-Wan kept quiet his hopes that there were surviving Jedi amongst them. If Anakin had been derisive of many of their fellows, Vader outright despised those who had survived the initial Purge. He did not wish to have yet another fight with his Padawan. Not with the twins providing a solid foundation for healing their unorthodox family.

**********

After they rejoined the _Exactor_ and he’d endured his first briefing with Admiral Ronan regarding his master’s new orders, Vader had returned to his private suite and pivoted automatically towards the door leading to Obi-Wan’s hastily-assigned room. He was standing in front of it, ready to wave it open before he realized what he was doing.

He had always consulted his old master. Even when separated on the front lines, his first instinct had always been to comm Kenobi when plans had to change. 

Vader took a deliberate step back, drawing the chill of the Dark Side around himself like a cloak, drowning the part of him that still yearned for this man’s approval, coldly contemptuous of the childhood need that had survived the brutality of Mustafar and its aftermath. Given a choice, Kenobi would doubtless side with the traitors they were chasing – and take the twins with him, given half a chance. 

He would not give Kenobi the knowledge he needed to seize a chance to join the Rebellion, the galaxy’s latest band of Separatists.

_“Bring peace to my empire.”_ Another lie. 

There would never be peace until the Emperor was gone. The name of the war had changed. Vader was grimly mortified to acknowledge that despite years of heart-rending losses, the purpose and the players had not. 

He spent the next month hunting the perpetrators of these so-far-small crimes against his master’s empire and quietly preparing the place he would leave his children and erstwhile Jedi master under secure guard. 

Obi-Wan and the twins remained hidden aboard in a specific room lined with Force-repulsing metal to hide their signature. The room was little larger than a broom closet and had started out completely devoid of furniture. It was also only accessible through the Dark Lord’s personal suite. Vader let Kenobi stew over what its original intention and future use might be. For now, it performed the necessary service of rendering all three Force sensitives invisible to any who might know how to look for them.

Fortunately, the Jedi’s shields were tight enough to allow him to spend several hours a day outside the cramped room, walking with the twins in the large, sterile, surveillance-free rooms that belonged to the Emperor’s second in command. Vader permitted him this freedom for his children. Kenobi might deserve a cell, but Luke and Leia should know nothing but fulfillment. 

He had felt the Jedi’s worry vibrating through their bond every time Black Squadron launched, the winces as his former master witnessed flashes of each battle through his red-plated eyes, the quiet relief when Vader and his pilots docked in their hangar. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of the bond’s regrowth, the genuine care he felt in Kenobi’s touch, or the memories that swirled between them. 

_“This is where the fun begins.”_

_“Anakin! Pull up!”_

_“I’ve got him, Master!”_

_Anakin’s fighter swooped so close to the sextuplet of vulture droids Obi-Wan screamed into their bond, his brother could not survive this—_

_—and all six exploded, their shards disintegrating against the weakening shields on Grevious’ ship._

_Anakin’s wild joy met Obi-Wan’s relief in their joined minds, emotional chaos on both ends as laughter echoed across the comm._

Flying now was always followed by meditation, an attempt to shut away the past that was growing steadily more intrusive on the present, but the passions he meditated on were steadily shifting. The anger that had come so easily at first was slowly being edged out by the fierce desire to protect his children, by grudging gratitude for his one-time brother’s attempts at acceptance, by the love that impinged on his consciousness from three sources.

_“Obi-Wan...there’s good in him. I know...I know there’s...still…”_

The Dark rebelled against his wife’s words, but he kept it firmly in check. A Sith controlled the Force, it did not control him. Her final utterance had the weight of a dying wish, and in his meditation he sought a clarification that eluded him. 

But the Force had made one thing abundantly clear, no matter how he might resent it: Kenobi belonged with him, like his children did. Regardless of his injuries, his anger, the Jedi’s wariness, his body butchered by Kenobi’s blade, the gaping wounds where the Jedi had been ripped out of the galaxy at his hand. 

Even scarred by betrayal, Kenobi was part of him. Always.

**********

“Put on your uniform,” Vader commanded curtly as the door to Obi-Wan’s broom-closet-bedroom swept open.

“Where are we going?” the Jedi asked as Vader busied himself with the twins. At eight weeks their eyes were open longer, focused better, and delighted in the sight of their father’s mask. Luke had Anakin’s clear blue eyes as a boy. Leia had inherited her mother’s dark irises, and Obi-Wan was already laying bets that they would be equally piercing. 

“Where they will be undisturbed.”

Obi-Wan donned the uniform of Black Squadron, complete with helmet. Even shaven, his hair dyed and his blue eyes dulled by coloured contact lenses, the face of the now-infamous Negotiator was simply too recognizable. The helmet, on the other hand, was ubiquitous, Vader’s love of flying and the fearsome reputation of his personal squad already so well documented that no one had noticed the uncommissioned pilot aboard.

The ruse had also only had to work once. Hopefully it would be just as easy getting it to work twice.

**********

“Where are we?” Obi-Wan asked as Vader casually pulled away in the shuttle. They had left the Exactor under the pretense of investigating the moon she was orbiting. But as they drew closer to the heavily forested body, Obi-Wan felt a chill steal over him, settling in and gnawing into his bones as they drew closer.

“Anakin. What _is_ that?” he asked sharply.

“Camouflage,” Vader rumbled.

“I haven’t felt anything this Dark since…” _Mortis._ The presence of the Son. 

“The temple below holds the remains of the spirit of Exar Kun.” Vader shot a glance at his master/prisoner, smirking under his mask as Obi-Wan visibly paled. “It will provide an adequate screen for your presence, as well as that of the twins.”

_Yavin IV._ Jedi had left the moon alone for millenia, and for good reason. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Obi-Wan asked faintly.

“As long as you do not approach the temple, the spirit cannot assault you. It goes without saying that as they grow, the twins are forbidden from entry until such time as they are skilled enough that it will benefit them. The risks you choose to take with your life are your own.”

“I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you,” the Jedi said evenly. 

“You will live in its shadow. Far enough not to offend your Jedi sensibilities,” Vader did not trouble to keep the sneer from his voice, “close enough to keep the Emperor from sensing your presence.” It also provided Vader with the perfect excuse to visit regularly and spend several weeks at a time “exploring the temple” and “embracing the power of the Dark Side”. And it would prove an excellent training ground for the twins once they reached Padawan age. They could hone their skills with the Sith traps and holocrons that were doubtless within. When it came time to destroy the man who killed their mother, they would be ready.

**********

As Obi-Wan strode down the ramp behind Vader, fighter helmet still firmly in place, a sense of deja vu swept over him so strongly he staggered. The entire 501st was arrayed before them as an honor guard, and Commander Appo stepped forward smartly to salute Vader as the Dark Lord’s boots hit the ground.

“All present and completed according to your instructions, General,” the commander reported efficiently. He betrayed not an iota of surprise at the infants in Vader’s arms.

_General,_ Obi-Wan recognized through a surge of pain that seized his whole chest. _He still calls him ‘General’._

“Excellent, Commander. I knew your men would provide as asked.”

“Half the men volunteered to stay as guard to the little Skywalkers, General, and half of us are dedicated to ensuring you’ll have the chance to come home to them. As the remains of the 212th joined the 501st after Operation Knightfall, I took the liberty of promoting Commander Cody to be in charge of the division left here.”

The chill from the Sith temple sharpened, Obi-Wan’s blood suddenly cold. His last memory of his commander, the man he’d spent three years with in the field, the man he’d trusted to protect his flank, to hold his line, to correct his strategy and follow his orders, was when Cody’s blaster – and every other gun in the 212th – had turned on him at Utapau. He was only alive now because they thought they’d succeeded then. 

He had agreed to be a prisoner to the ghost that most haunted him. He had _not_ expected another to be added.

He swallowed hard and followed his one-time apprentice into the base.

**********

“Sir.”

Obi-Wan did not startle. At least not in any way his former commander would be able to tell. 

_At least Vader’s voice is different,_ he thought bitterly, closing his eyes against the tears Cody’s single word summoned. 

How many times had he heard his clone commander say it? It had to number in the thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. 

“Commander Cody,” he managed, hands still locked behind his back as he looked out over the thick forest in the early morning light.

“General Skywalker has left me in charge of the garrison here to care for the twins.” Cody paused. “And you.”

“Ensure I don’t vanish with them, you mean,” Obi-Wan corrected coolly, crossing his arms as he turned from the glorious sunrise illuminating the gas giant of Yavin to face another man who had practically been family and nearly killed him.

“Partially.” Cody’s helmet was under his arm, his soldier’s expression locked firmly in its neutral lines. “But also to ensure your safety.” There was something about his eyes that bespoke regret. And pain. Gently, almost afraid to overstep and equally fearful of what he would find, the Jedi reached out and prodded the Force around his commander.

_The general still cares about you,_ Cody’s faint Force-touch whispered, _and so do I._

Remorse. Grief. Betrayal. Cody’s bland features belied deeply-entrenched emotional turmoil and a corrosive shame. Unlike Vader, who sometimes nearly felt like Anakin and then others drowned himself so thoroughly in the Dark that he scoured the Force like a Hoth ice storm, Cody’s turbulence was consistent and easily decoded. 

“I am so sorry,” Obi-Wan whispered. Cody’s eyes jerked, and suddenly there was water standing in them. 

“Sir?” he managed, but his voice shook even on the one syllable. 

“It wasn’t your choice, Cody. Never your decision. Any of it. You fought at my side. Considered me part of your family. A few words created a divide that brothers should never suffer.”

The Force rustled at him, replaying his words over a vicious lava field.

_“You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!”_

_“I HATE you!”_

“General, I tried to kill you,” the commander forced through numb lips.

“Only because your mind was not your own. I cannot hold you accountable for the evils of a man who manipulated all of us.” Cody stared at him, bewildered hope blossoming around him. “Did Anakin remove those chips?” Obi-Wan asked, hopeful and dreading the answer in equal measure.

“Yes sir,” Cody replied with alacrity. “General Skywalker said that no one had the right to make us slaves. The entire remains of the 501st and 212th have had theirs removed.”

“Was that…after we…after the suit?”

“Yes sir.”

Relief broke over the Jedi in waves, the sum of his emotions so overwhelming that he was only able to distil a single, shining thought:

_Anakin_ is _still alive._

Slaves _built_ Sith empires. If Vader were all that was left, the clones would still be chipped. But he had freed them. Freed them because even in his Darkness, Anakin remained Anakin. A slave who knew what it meant to own nothing but his own Name, a Jedi committed to freeing every vassal he came across.

He thought of Sheev Palpatine’s smug face, Vader looming behind him, in the holonet announcement following the declaration of the Empire and the deaths of the Separatist leadership.

For the first time since he’d left Mustafar, Obi-Wan took a full, deep breath, and _really_ felt the Force flow in harmony around him.

_You haven’t won. And now, for the first time, I know the face of my true enemy. I will fight for his soul with every breath my body draws from now until either you or time strikes me down._

“Come, Commander Cody. It’s time for breakfast.”

**********

Two weeks after their arrival, Vader strode into his children’s expansive wing of the base. Though they were yet infants, he had given extensive orders as to what his children would require as they grew, and the clones had delivered accordingly. Currently, they were in the nursery, but there were training salles designed for both physical fitness and lightsaber training, a study for when they grew old enough to read and learn, and larger separate bedrooms appropriate for teenage children when they became necessary.

It was also where he had granted Obi-Wan a room, troublesome though the Jedi might yet be. 

_“Because we are_ family.” The Force had echoed with the truth of his declaration, infuriating and too-late as it was. Vader could trust him with his children. And with the clones here, there was little chance of Obi-Wan leaving with them. 

But Vader knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t _want_ to. Something had shifted in his old master since the battle on Mustafar. The betrayed man bleeding disillusionment had tempered. This wasn’t the broken Jedi confronting him with nothing left to lose. Nor was it the Obi-Wan who had been his master and brother-in-arms for thirteen years. This was…someone new. 

As long as this version of Obi-Wan remained dedicated to the twins and the eradication of the Emperor (in that order), Vader could live with that. Perhaps even wanted to live with it. 

He entered the nursery to find Obi-Wan sitting cross-legged on the floor, watching Leia with a firm eye as she fussed over being required to lay on her stomach in order to strengthen her neck. Her head bobbed up to allow her to howl her displeasure at her tormentor before dropping back down against the floor. Luke was ignoring his sister as he reached for a plush toy. It was just out of his limited reach. Vader twitched his hand, rolling it into his son’s clumsy fingers. Luke cooed in satisfaction. Obi-Wan sighed, exasperation echoing in the Force.

“He has to learn how to reach for it, Anakin, or he won’t develop properly.”

“How many infants have you cared for, Kenobi?” Vader challenged, amusement seeping through their bond. 

“I’ve been reading,” the Jedi waved negligently at a datapad propped on a tiny chair. 

“Indeed. I have been recalled. The _Emperor,_ ” and now it was his master’s title that had earned a sneer, “is demanding my presence.”

“What kind of mission?” Obi-Wan asked, and Vader felt the concern that had graced their bond so often in his Padawan days. 

“The details are best left unknown,” the Dark Lord replied. He felt the other’s hesitation, followed by acceptance. There would be many missions for Vader to undertake as the twins grew to adulthood. Most of them would not be the types of missions Obi-Wan would approve of. 

“How long?” 

“Several months at the very least.” Vader gently settled himself next to the mat where his daughter labored, the squall of her temper mounting with her frustration. 

“You are magnificent,” he told her, lifting her. The instant she focused on his mask, Leia broke into a gummy smile, balling a fist into her mouth. “So much passion. So much desire for life.”

Luke burbled at them, and a whisper of command from his father brought the infant sailing over on invisible strings to rest next to his sister in his father’s arms. Vader considered both of them silently, solidifying their presences in his own mind, anchoring himself in them. Both twins yawned sleepily as their fuzzy image-and-color thought patterns wrapped lazily around their father’s sharply angled mind.

His comm pinged at him. He placed each twin carefully back on the play mat. 

“Be safe, Anakin,” Obi-Wan bid him quietly.

Vader looked down at the infants nearing sleep on the floor, and had another small epiphany. 

_My responsibility. Only mine. Padmé...I will not fail in this. I_ must _be safe to care for them._

“I believe I will,” the Sith/Jedi, Anakin/Vader machine-and-man answered thoughtfully. 

With that he strode out of the nursery to begin the process of making the galaxy a slightly safer place for his children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to Fialleril and her Double Agent Vader series with their amazing head canons on Tatooine Slave culture. The explanation for Leia's name is drawn from her excellent writing. If you haven't read her, you should immediately go do so.


End file.
